Once more my deeper life goes on with more strength, as if the banks through which it moves had widened out. — Ranier Maria Rilke You get the call. You have gotten the call. You will get the call. Mine came from one of my brothers a few weeks ago. Flat voice, naked, no artificial sweetener: “You need to get here, Laura. She is in the intensive care unit,...
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I had dinner with a friend last week; she is about 20 years younger. We were next door neighbors a while back, and a friendship bloomed between us even though a generation separates us. She is radiant and thoughtful, and our friendship continues the way it began—unedited candor and shared problem solving about whatever our hearts grapple with. As we traded...
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Sunday morning. All Saints Day. I had spent the night at a friend’s house; a group of us were there tucked into a honeycomb of bedrooms. In the wake of the previous evening’s Halloween shenanigans, we all awoke slowly and shambled toward the kitchen to begin the sacred ritual of coffee making. We clutched our mugs and stood around the kitchen counter. In...
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I didn’t recognize the incoming phone number when I took the call last week. It was a friend from college days. He and I have kept in touch over the years, but he lives in Florida, he’s not a big Facebook guy, and it’s been three years or so since we’ve seen one another or conversed.
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When my 21-year-old niece Carmen moved in with me six months ago, we visited the Humane Society one rainy Sunday to select a cat to bring into our petless lives. Before we got there, I decreed that the animal would be named Walter Cronkite, no matter the gender. Carmen was unfazed. She knew of my propensity for naming cats after broadcast...
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